


Dandelion III

by lokilickedme



Series: Dandelion [3]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Awkward Boners, Awkward Sexual Situations, Budding Love, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mildly Dubious Consent, Nipple Licking, Non-Consensual Kissing, Romance, Sleeping Together, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 20:44:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3623697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokilickedme/pseuds/lokilickedme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This piece actually comes before Dandelion and Dandelion II, before Tom and Anja married; they're good buddies in a large group of friends who've known each other since their early 20's, but it's never occurred to either of them that maybe there could be something different for them.  After a party during which Anja drank something that made her sick, Tom takes her to his hotel room to look after her till she feels better.  A bit of guilty voyeurism and some non-consensual licking leads to morning confessions from both sides.  Naughty!Tom with a conscience, taking his first tentative steps out of the dreaded friendzone - and lots of boobs and puking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dandelion III

 

 

"Oh man," she whimpered, her hand clutching at her throat and her face going pale. "I'm not going to make it."

"Let me hel- "

Before he could finish she was on her way to the bathroom. He got up and followed her; by the time he reached the door, she was already on her knees in front of the toilet, retching violently. His heart went out to her. Kneeling behind her, he gently took her hair in his hands and pulled it back. She convulsed again, emptying her stomach into the toilet as he shushed her crying, stroking her back softly as he held her hair away from her tearstreaked face.

When she was done, he helped her to her feet and steadied her with an arm around her shoulders. Her shirt was damp with vomit. She grimaced, gingerly plucking it away from her skin as she became aware of the wholly unpleasant sensation of clammy wet fabric sticking to her. She looked down, her face defeated and already screwing up into a mask of despair as Tom realized she was going to cry.

"I've got something you can wear," he said quickly, exiting into the bedroom and returning a moment later with a fresh, clean shirt of his own. He noticed Anja was shaking. Her arms were clutching herself and her skin was dimpled with gooseflesh, outward sign of the chill she was trembling against. Again, his heart ached for her suffering. She didn't move.

"Here, let me help you," he said softly, hurriedly, hoping to spur her into action so he wouldn't have to undress her himself. In any other circumstance he would have loved the opportunity to do just that, but the sick girl standing in his bathroom didn't need what he was longing to give. She cast a sideways glance at the clean shirt in his hands and seemed to come back to her senses.

He watched as she grabbed the hem of her teeshirt and peeled it up over her head. She was turned slightly away from him, but as her arms went up he caught a glimpse of the side of her breast. She was naked under the shirt. He thought he should look away and preserve her dignity from what he felt sure would become a prying stare if he wasn't careful, but she obviously was beyond caring if he looked at her. She bent forward over the sink and turned on the hot water, using her hands to splash some across her bare chest and remove the last of the vomit that had soaked through. His breath hitched in his throat a bit when he looked toward her again and realized he had a full frontal view of her in the mirror.

He quickly pulled a towel off the rack next to him and held it out to her, letting it block his view as she turned toward him. Her arms were crossed in front of herself, but they did a dismal job of covering her breasts. She took it and thanked him quietly, almost in a whisper, as she dried herself and reached for the shirt. He didn't let go completely and helped her pull it on, settling it over her shoulders and scooping her hair out of the collar as she buttoned it from the bottom. After three buttons she sucked in her breath with a quivering sigh that sounded like tears getting ready to fall again; her hands were shaking too hard to work the small buttons, so she stopped and scrubbed at her face in frustration with the back of her fist.

He wrestled with the idea of helping her with the buttons but quickly decided against it. His mind had immediately thrown itself to the mental image of his fingertips brushing her breasts through the fabric, and he felt a hot blush rising to his ears.

"Go back to bed now," he said softly, stepping out of the way and motioning toward the bedroom. "You need to sleep."

After she had settled into the bed, he stood looking at her for a few moments. He had pulled the sheet and blanket up and tucked them around her shoulders to help her body heat stay close; she was breathing loudly but was beginning to calm and her eyes were already closed. Once he was satisfied that she was comfortable, he went to the armoire for another blanket and slowly eased onto the bed next to her, laying on top of the bedding and covering himself with the second blanket. It wasn't easy to fall asleep, but he tried despite the images that kept playing behind his eyelids; Anja in his hotel bed, laying next to him with her dark hair messy across the pillow, the side of her breast that he'd seen in the bathroom, the glimpse he'd caught of her taut pink nipple from under her arm. He had looked away quickly when she turned to the mirror, but the view, although brief, had burned itself into his memory already and he rubbed his eyes to try to make it go away. He wanted to sleep, not to lay here all night with an uncomfortable erection that he couldn't remedy. Her breasts were gorgeous. Big and heavy and incredibly soft looking, with rosy pink nipples begging to be sucked. Before he had looked away he'd quickly noticed that they swayed when she moved. His mouth had actually watered.

He felt sure he could sneak off to the bathroom and ease his discomfort with a few quick strokes after he was certain she was asleep, but the idea seemed dirty and perverse and he discounted it quickly. He didn't want to masturbate to the mental image of his sick friend as she lay in a fevered sleep just a few feet away. The quickly stolen glimpses were more than enough to work with, but it almost felt like a betrayal. She trusted him enough to sleep in his bed, to let him help her while she was weakened, to not make him leave the room while she changed her clothes. No, he wouldn't betray her trust like that. He turned his head and looked at her face in the dim light from the bedside lamp.

She had been a bit fitful at first, unable to get comfortable, but now she was settled and seemed calm. He lay staring at her closed eyes for a bit. His heart started to ache worse than his crotch as he watched her lips part slightly in a low sigh. He resisted the almost overpowering urge to scoot closer to her and instead closed his own eyes, willing himself to clear his mind and sleep.

 

Sometime during the night he awoke. He had felt the bed moving and it brought him to a slow, confused half-awake state before he remembered that he wasn't alone. Anja. She had stirred in her sleep and moved closer to him, the blanket and sheet falling to her waist as she scooted around finding another comfortable position. She had bumped up against his side and then moved away again, finally settling onto her back with her left hip slightly tipped up toward him. In the dim light he could see that her shirt - his shirt actually, which was big and loose on her tiny frame - had shifted. She had left the top four buttons undone and during her wriggling the neckline had fallen open, exposing the inner swell of her left breast. His eyes fell to it and he found he couldn't tear them away. He turned onto his side so that he was facing her and she moved again; the shirt tugged downward and tightened across her breast, showing him the perfect shape of her nipple through the taut fabric. He felt his pulse quicken as she inhaled deeply, pushing her breasts up harder against the thin shirt as if she were stretching. Then she exhaled, her chest fell slightly, and the shirt, starched and a bit stiff, didn't fall with her.

He wasn't aware of his fingers slowly tugging the button placket to the side until he'd done it. He was even less aware of his breath coming in ragged gasps as he propped himself up on one elbow and leaned over her, careful to keep his body off her as he lowered his head to her breast and gently, softly, tenderly kissed the exposed flesh. A small sigh escaped her lips, but she didn't move. He very lightly touched her nipple with his lips. It was hard, the taut rosy tip jutting up toward him, teasing him as he breathed softly against it. Without thinking, he took the tip into his mouth and gave it a gentle suck.

Anja arched her back very slightly and a low, almost inaudible moan rumbled in her throat. He felt it in his loins, deep and tugging, but struggled to remain in control. He wasn't going to rape her. He didn't need a hardon dragging his thoughts and intentions toward depravity. This was Anja - she trusted him. He loved her. He moved away slightly with the intention of closing her shirt and removing himself to the sofa, but when she had arched her back the shirt had opened further, exposing more of her naked breast to him. The sight was too much. He found himself nuzzling at her with heated fervor, sucking and licking and tugging at her nipple till it was hard against his tongue, harder than he had thought it could be. He forced himself to be gentle and not hurt her. She was stirring in her sleep, soft moans occasionally trickling from her lips, urging him on with the realization that this felt good to her. Her sighs sounded contented. He nudged the soft underside of her breast with his chin and smiled, his tongue slowly sliding up her silken flesh as he shifted his body over her, still holding himself away. He was very hard now but made himself think only of giving her pleasure.

His mouth trailed warmly across to her other breast, leaving a damp trail through the hollow in the center of her chest between them. Pushing the shirt aside with his nose, he found her right nipple just as ready for his attention as the left had been; taut and perky and alert, darkened to a deep rosy pink with desire and need, ready to be sucked and teased. He lowered his head to her breast and suckled her gently, resisting the urge to bite and nip at the hardened tip with his teeth. She moaned and he felt himself twitch, his cock growing heavy against his thigh as he hardened further. He kept it well away from her. He wanted her to wake up aroused, not thinking she was being assaulted; it wouldn't do for a throbbing boner to be the first thing she noticed upon waking. His fingers itched to join his lips in playing with her, but he didn't want to wake her and he knew if he let his hands roam free, there would be no stopping them.

His thoughts came rushing in on him then - what exactly did he have planned here? Nothing, he realized. He had just been overwhelmed by his feelings, exacerbated by the glimpse of flesh, and spurred on by the positive reinforcement of her sighs and soft moans. He had no permission from her to be doing this, and the realization sent a chill of remorse through him. He had wanted to comfort her, help her feel better, but he was enjoying it far too much himself and he feared his own desire for taking pleasure in her body would eclipse his ability to keep a tight reign on his actions. He was already hard and throbbing, harder by far than he could ever remember being...and there she was, soft and sweet and sound asleep, exhausted by half a night of forcible heaving, not even threatening to awaken as he licked and teased her. It would be far too easy to take advantage. He looked down at her again and let his eyes sweep over her bare breasts. The soft, pliable, yielding flesh tempted him sorely to continue his gentle plunder; he so loved big natural breasts, the way they filled his hands and bulged out between his fingers as he squeezed them, the way he could bury his face in them, the way they moved. His cock jumped with a fresh surge of desire and in that moment of clarity he made his decision to retreat, quietly leaving the bed before he did something that would make them both hate him.

 

In the early morning sunlight Anja turned over and pulled the pillow from beneath her head, pushing it down to her stomach. That did nothing to ease the ache she was feeling; realizing it wasn't in her belly, she pushed the pillow lower and squeezed it between her thighs. That felt better, but it still didn't help much. She moaned and rolled over onto her back, her eyes opening when she realized she wasn't in her own bed.

Tom was on the sofa across the room. He was asleep, his head angled uncomfortably over the arm of the couch, his long legs hanging off the other end. One arm had fallen to the floor during the night, his hand palm up, long elegant fingers curled loosely. Anja was staring at those fingers when he suddenly moved and turned his head to look around in momentary confusion. So she wasn't the only one who couldn't clearly remember how she got there. She was about to speak when he looked at her.

The sunlight bursting in through the sheer curtains fell across his face and made him wince, but even through the fierce squint she was amazed, as always, at how bright and blue his eyes were. He saw her looking at him and smiled.

"Morning," he said, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his fingers. "Feeling any better?"

Anja hugged the pillow tighter, grimacing as memories of the previous night's sickness came back to her. "Oh god," she mumbled. "I puked _so hard_."

Tom laughed as he swung his legs off the sofa and set his feet on the floor. "Yes, yes you did. It was epic in ways previously not believed possible."

She groaned again. Tom noticed she was holding the pillow tightly, the lower half tucked between her thighs beneath the sheet. Her groan coupled with the sight of her knees clutching the pillow rekindled the need he'd felt the night before, a need that had diminished during the night as he slept but that was now reawakening within his groin. He didn't want to stand up and walk across the room with an erection stretching the front of his sweatpants, even if he could joke it off as morning wood that had nothing to do with her. He felt a little queasy in his belly, low down, and wasn't sure if it was the need for some sexual relief or guilt over his actions of the previous night. He wondered if she remembered any of it. Had she been aware of what he was doing? Would she think it was a dream brought on by her fever? Or was she blissfully unaware that he'd been kissing her bare skin?

He felt the need to come clean with her. He wasn't sure how, so he just took a deep breath and started talking.

"Darling," he began, his voice hesitant. "Last night..."

Anja had sat up and made a funny little 'ack' sound as the front of her - his - shirt had fallen open. She tugged it shut, goodnaturedly cursing as she buttoned the top four buttons and muttered something about giving Tom a boob show. She looked up at him with an amused smile and waited for him to continue.

"Yeah," he said, "about that - um, I'm afraid that last night, I might have...overstepped some boundaries...a bit."

Her face didn't change, she just sat looking at him, waiting. He took a deep breath.

"You were sleeping, and...well, your shirt..."

" _Your_ shirt, you mean."

"Yes...my shirt...well, it was unbuttoned, like it was now - you'd had trouble buttoning it last night and I didn't feel comfortable doing it myself, and you were so sick, I just put you to bed as-is and...well, during the night you moved over close to me and - "

He stopped talking and met eyes with her. Her expression hadn't changed, except that perhaps her little smile had twitched just a bit, at the corner of her mouth. Her eyes were holding his unwaveringly.

" - and I...well hell, I'm just going to own it. I couldn't resist, you looked so damn gorgeous lying there with your luscious breasts all bare and the moonlight across your face and I may have...kissed...and perhaps licked...you in a few, uh, places."

He could feel how red his face was, his blush rising furiously to his hairline and making his ears so hot they felt like they were on fire. She was still just looking at him, but he noticed that her knees briefly squeezed the pillow tighter. He wasn't sure what that meant in the context of what he'd just confessed.

"But I want you to know, that was the extent of it - I didn't do... _anything_ else. I moved to the couch so that you'd be safe because honestly, I wasn't sure if I could behave after that."

She finally made a sound, like a barely repressed giggle, and put her hands over her face. He could see her shoulders shaking slightly. "Are you laughing...? Or crying? Oh god please don't be crying - "

She uncovered her face and he saw that she was indeed laughing. He let out an audible sigh of relief. He wasn't sure what to make of the laughter, but at least she wasn't ordering him to leave and never come near her again.

"So," she finally said, still holding the pillow tightly to her front like a wall between them. "That would explain my wet panties this morning."

He choked on his tongue. His suspicions about the pillow had been correct - she was using it to put pressure between her legs, subconsciously attempting to relieve the tension he had caused there. So she had enjoyed it, even though she had slept through it. He felt a smile rising that he couldn't stop.

"Geez Tom, I thought I'd puked so hard that I peed the bed."

It was his turn to laugh. Anja could be fearlessly blunt with him sometimes, occasionally embarrassing him but usually making him dissolve in laughter. The relief he felt at her lighthearted take on the evening's events made it easier for him to see the humor in the situation. She wasn't mad at him. She didn't even seem annoyed or shocked at his behavior. And she wasn't embarrassed, which was what he had feared the most - that she would feel humiliated and taken advantage of, perhaps even abused. For a moment he had almost felt like he'd raped her, even though there was no intercourse involved and he hadn't touched her below the waist. But still, touching a sleeping woman that way...he didn't want to regret it, yet he did.

"I'm sorry, Anja," he said quietly. "It wasn't a nice thing to do and you can be angry with me if you want. I deserve it."

She flopped back down on the bed, still hugging the pillow between her legs. He had never wanted to be a piece of bedding so badly in all his life as he did at that moment. She'd had it there for what, a good ten or fifteen minutes at least? He imagined it was warm and damp by now. He made a mental note to put up the 'no housekeeping' sign so the maid wouldn't change the pillowcase.

"Good grief, Tom," she said with a slight giggle to her voice. "You're a guy, do you really think I can blame you? You see boobs and you lose your capacity for rational thought. If it was anyone else I don't doubt I'd have woken up with them on top of me."

He smiled hesitantly. She was trying to make light of it, no doubt to make him feel better; he was no good at hiding his emotions, he never had been. She could tell he felt guilty.

"Besides, don't think for a second it wouldn't have gone down the same exact way in reverse if it had been _you_ with _your_ stuff exposed."

"Huh?"

She was looking at him over the top of the pillow, the lower half of her face hidden so he couldn't see if she was smiling or not. Her eyes looked like she was grinning, but her words had flustered him and he wasn't thinking clearly enough to figure it out.

"If you were asleep and your junk popped out of that little door you guys have in your undies, don't delude yourself into thinking I wouldn't take a peek. In fact, I'd probably do more than that if I thought I could get away with it."

He gave her a puzzled look. "Really?"

She nodded, and he could see a little bit of pink flushing her cheeks. "If you were passed out drunk or something like that and I knew you weren't going to wake up, I would be thinking really hard about touching you."

His own cheeks flushed pink then. " _Seriously_?"

"Seriously. I mean...we've known each other for how many years now? I've stolen looks at the front of your pants from time to time, I won't deny that. I also won't deny that I've always wished for a good peek at what you're actually packing in there."

She seemed to be getting bolder, the more she spoke. He kept silent and let her continue even though he was dying to close the space between them and give her what she had wished for. "And then there was that time in San Antonio when I sat in your lap at that club, remember that? We had that private table in the back and everybody was being loud and I was wiggling around because Ben was grabbing my knee under the table...I think you were hoping I didn't notice, but there was no way I could have missed that."

He clenched his eyes shut and winced at the mention of that night. The sensation of her wriggling around on his lap had given him a raging hardon, and all he could do was hope she stayed put, hiding it for him, long enough for him to will it away. She'd been wearing a loose little skirt and when she sat down on his knee it flared out behind her; he could feel her bottom directly on his lap and it immediately went straight to his libido. She had slid back, toward his stomach, so that the heated bulge in the front of his pants had pressed firmly against her hip, and she had never let on that she felt it even though he knew she couldn't have avoided it without being in another building entirely. He realized now that she'd done that on purpose, to keep him from being embarrassed in front of their friends.

"Yeah, I remember that." He huffed out a little laugh and raked his hand through his unruly hair. "I think Ben was purposefully trying to orchestrate an embarrassing situation."

Anja lowered the pillow from her face and she was smiling. "I knew right then that I couldn't ever sleep with you."

 _What?_   Confusion crossed his face, but she was grinning and rolling over onto her back, still clutching the pillow to her front. "I gave up all delusions about you actually fitting on that night. You're huge. _Frighteningly_ huge."

She was laughing now, a soft purring laugh that had always melted his heart. She had rolled over, away from him, still hugging the pillow with her back now turned to him. The sheet had tugged down and he could see the backs of her thighs, the barest hint of the lace of her panties showing beneath the hem of his shirt, pale pink against the white of the sheets. He wanted to run his hands over her legs and slip his fingers into those panties, squeezing the soft flesh of her bottom, remembering how sweet it had felt on his lap that night. Soft and little and firm, so sweetly round, awakening desires in him that would have been immensely welcome had it not been for the crowd of people around them. The fact that she'd been well aware of his hardon and had pretended not to notice, while hiding it from their friends, made him love her all the more.

"I wouldn't hurt you," he said quietly.

Anja felt a chill run down her spine as his words caressed her ears. He was on the other side of the room and she swore she could feel his breath against her neck as he spoke. "I know," she said back.

 

Their conversation ended abruptly with Chris's voice shouting and the bang of his fist beating impatiently on the door. "Okay I know you're in there, we have to be at Kiera's in half an hour so get up _NOW_." Their rooms all had a passkey that worked on every suite, so before Tom could grab Anja and hustle her into the bathroom, he had unlocked the door and let himself in.

" _What the_ \- " He stopped in his tracks when he saw Anja in the bed. Tom was standing next to it, looking sheepish. "Well hello, what have we here?"

Tom put his hand out in a 'wait a minute, this is not what it looks like' gesture that was soundly ignored as their friend looked at them from one to the other and back again, taking in the apparent situation with a smug grin. He shook his head in mock rebuke and turned to leave as quickly as he had entered. "Thirty minutes, loser."

He shut the door behind him. They could hear him cackling loudly as he walked down the hall.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
